Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
I called Riven again.
He didn’t answer.
I tried Rex.
My dad.
Uncle Bill.
Les.
Everyone’s calls went straight to voice mail.
Just as I was about to try them again, my cell rang.
Becca.
She hadn’t called me in weeks. There had to be a reason she was calling now.
“Bec?”
“It’s a setup! They’re setting Riven up!” she screamed frantically.
“I know. I’m on my way to Smithfield now. Are they trying to get him arrested again?”
“He’s not in Smithfield! That’s what I’m trying to tell you. The past few weeks have been a wake-up call for me. I’ve been spying on Rex and Frank and recording Rex’s calls. They’ve been working their way into a lot of money, but I couldn’t figure out what was going on. I just put it all together today when I heard them talking before they left. The money they gave Riven was so he wouldn’t suspect it’s all a trap. Frank took the bulk of it with him, and he’s in Smithfield, getting the heroin. They sent Riven to Travers.”
“What’s going to happen to him in Travers?” I asked, throat so tight, I could hardly breathe.
“I don’t know, Parrish.”
Maybe they were trying to get him arrested again.
Maybe they were trying to get him killed.
My heart stopped beating, the breath suddenly ripped from my lungs.
I whipped the truck around, cars honking at me as I turned to go the other direction. Toward Riven.
“I’m going there.”
“Be careful. What if…”
“He’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it. Just…thank you, Becca.”
“I’m fucking done with him. I can’t do this anymore. And I’m taking Rex and Frank down for good.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Riven
I was early, though I’d known I would be when I left. I just couldn’t sit around Clayton anymore, slowly going out of my mind. If I’d stayed, I wouldn’t have been able to keep myself from going to Parrish. I’d spent my whole fucking life never feeling truly connected to anyone or anything until I had him, and the thought of losing that was like a slow death, one where I was awake and oriented and knew I was dying.
What kept me going was knowing that if I didn’t do this, they would find a way to frame Parrish for it—if not this, then something else. If there was one thing I cared about, it was being the kind of man who protected what was his, and Parrish was mine.
I parked off to the side of the old, abandoned road, in the middle of nowhere, waiting until the last minute before I had to go in to that meeting and buy a shit ton of heroin. My fingers drummed against the steering wheel as I looked at the warehouse in the distance. It was clearly shut down, part of the building falling apart, the windows boarded up.
Prison wasn’t the only possibility when I got out of my truck. There was a chance that wasn’t what this was about at all, and I wouldn’t walk out alive. I knew that, and in some ways I’d made peace with it. I didn’t much care about myself, but all I could think was, what would happen to Parrish and Grandma if I was dead? If I got caught, this time I would take Rex, Frank, and Bill down with me, but ending up dead was another story.
What about Parrish? You told him you were done with this shit. That you wanted a normal life, and you do.
I shook off those thoughts. I did want a normal life, but what we wanted and what we got weren’t always the same thing.
I looked at the burner phone, not letting myself pick up my real one, knowing if I did, I would call Parrish. If I talked to him, I wouldn’t have the balls to do this because…fuck, I wanted to be with him. He made me want more. Made me look forward to my life, even if it wasn’t a real special one, but I’d get to spend it with him, and that’s what would make it spectacular.
One minute ticked by, then two and three, followed by thirty and sixty. I sat there for what felt like hours, with a weight in my gut and Parrish’s name on my tongue, my heart beating just for him.
He made me feel like I was something, like I could be more, and though I hadn’t admitted it out loud, or hell, even to myself, part of me had started to believe him. If someone like Parrish could love me, maybe I wasn’t completely bad.
You’re falling into the same trap as before, the one Parrish has mostly found a way out of.
I was, wasn’t I? Planning to walk in there to buy a bunch of heroin, with no way to protect myself and knowing whoever was inside would be strapped. Giving them money I didn’t know how the Hunts had even obtained. Knowing what the consequences could be. How was this different from going to prison for Rex like I did before? Taking the fall, protecting them. Because if this didn’t work out and I was the only one who suffered, how could I be the man Grandma needed me to be or the man Parrish deserved from behind bars? Or six feet under? Was I telling myself that I was doing this to protect them, but really, in a fucked-up way, I was still doing it for Rex and Frank?